


Sweet Butterfly

by Christie Redfield (Steampunkjeans)



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Classic Who, Episode Tag, F/M, Friendship, The Three Doctors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunkjeans/pseuds/Christie%20Redfield
Summary: Meeting your past selves and the very creator of time travel itself tends to wear one out.





	Sweet Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Doctor Who is © BBC and the show’s creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended whatsoever nor is any profit being made from this fanfic; i.e. it is purely non-profit.

Sweet Butterfly  
By Christie Redfield

Jo Grant's eyes grew increasingly heavier by the minute as she chewed on her pen, notepad in hand. Every now and again she'd lift her pen to jot something down in the notepad, only to immediately scratch something out along with what she wrote. The Brigadier had stated that each one of them was to fill out a report documenting the recent events involving the being known as Omega. Rather than head home and rest, Jo wished to write it all down at once while it was still fresh in her mind. Though in a way it was also serving as a coping mechanism of sorts for her. 

Let's see there was that strange anti-matter thingamabob that ate Bessie, those bizarre blob creatures...and apparently the Doctor knows magic. No, no, no, that's not of importance to the report, even if it was quite impressive. Maybe he learned it in a past life? As one of the other hims? The clownish one?

The Doctor sat at his workbench, his own report already written, ready to be handed in, currently tucked neatly inside a plain manila folder. He currently held the dematerialization circuit in his hands, scrutinizing it carefully with a magnifying eye piece.

Jo glanced up from her writing, a frown formed on her delicate features as she spotted the Doctor busily studying his latest item of interest. 

"You've haven't been able to take your eyes off that thing ever since we've returned, are you sure you're not planning on running off, first chance you get?" Jo asked him, her voice full of worry. She knew how much he hated being cooped up here on Earth, running errands for the Brigadier. She was surprised he wasn't in that old police box right now, installing his treasured prize. 

"Course not Jo," he reassured her, "There's still much work to be done," The Doctor paused, his brow furrowing as he gazed upon the blue police box removing the eye piece as he did. "That in mind, it has been awhile since she has flown...I hope the old girl still has it in her...,"

Jo smiled at the way the Doctor affectionately referred to the TARDIS as thought it were a dear old friend. 

"So you're no-not...le-leaving...," she paused mid-sentence to stifle a yawn, "...just yet?"

The Doctor smiled softly, noting the way Jo blinked her drooping eyelids in a feeble attempt to fight off sleep. Delicate little butterfly that she was, even she had to stop and rest her wings.

"Go home and rest my dear, the report can wait until tomorrow," he coaxed her gently. Jo shook her head, refocusing her attention back on the notepad resting across her legs.

"I'm nearly finished," she said as she pressed her pen to the paper with renewed focus, brown eyes narrowing. "Besides I..I...wo-would...," she paused as she fought another yawn, "....hate very much to trouble you Doctor," she remarked as she began to write.

"You're hardly ever a trouble to me my dear Josephine," he replied to her, his tone soft. "But, if you so insist on finishing your report, I must insist that I drive you home once you're finished, you're in no shape to drive," his tone was firm as he spoke his last words though it was mainly out of concern. Jo only nodded, "Of course, thank you Doctor."

Nodding in approval the Doctor turned back to the work table and set the materialization circuit down. "Would you care for some tea for the time being then Jo? I may stay up a little while longer," 

He glanced over his shoulder when he received no reply, "Jo?" The Doctor turned round completely to get a better look at his companion. Jo's hands had stilled, her shoulders slumped forward, her chin rested lightly against her chest. 

Quietly so as not to disturb her, the Timelord moved quietly from the workbench and over to where Jo sat on the couch. He crouched down and pushed a stray blonde lock of hair behind her ear and shook his head. She was sound asleep. "Oh Jo," he spoke softly.

Gently he pried loose the pen and notepad from her hands, setting it on the table beside the couch. The Doctor wrapped one arm around her shoulders and used the other to lift her legs up onto the couch. Jo stirred slightly and snuggled into the Doctor's velvet smoking jacket as he lowered her head onto the couch. He turned his attention to her knee-high white boots and decided they did not look in the slightest bit the most comfortable things to fall asleep in. 

As quietly and as gently as possible he proceeded to remove the boots, one at a time. The first boot came off with little difficulty, and the Doctor couldn't help smiling upon noticing that she had painted her toenails the same shade of blue as her dress. 

He hurriedly turned his attention to the other boot still on her leg and gave the zipper a gentle tug. He frowned, immediately knowing that this boot would prove more difficult. Patting his jacket he smiled as he found his sonic screwdriver. It would make short work of the troublesome zipper. A slight adjustment here and...there. He held the sonic screwdriver over the zipper and eased it down. He looked up as he heard a soft chuckle and Jo shifted in her sleep, smiling. His assistant was ticklish. He pried the boot loose and set it down next to the other. 

Shrugging his smoking jacket off his shoulders he placed it over Jo's small form, she having hung up her faux fur jacket earlier. He shifted the poor excuse for a throw pillow under her head and sat back on his haunches suddenly feeling equally exhausted by the day's events. The Doctor moved so that his back rested against the couch and he sighed. One hour, just one hour, that was all he needed and he would resume his work.

The TARDIS could wait a little while longer.

~FIN


End file.
